Guidance
by vcg73
Summary: A missing scene for "The Rhodes Not Taken".


He approached the office slowly, every step dragging just a bit more than the one before it until he was inching forward, barely moving at all. Dread had soaked into the very marrow of his bones. Pale skin flushed as hot as 3rd degree sunburn one moment and as cold as ice the next, feeling as if it were shrinking against his flesh.

He couldn't do this! Maybe he could fake it instead. Just lie and say he had spoken to her and that everything was fine, while truthfully avoiding her for the rest of his natural life in order to avoid that conversation.

But no. That would never work. For starters, he had never been good at lying to his father. He tried, sometimes, but he could never maintain the fiction indefinitely and always ended up spilling his guts. And things would just be worse if they happened to meet at the next parent-teacher night and Dad were to discover that he had chickened out on a promise, then lied about it.

Besides, she deserved to hear the words. He could not even imagine how horrified he would have felt had their positions been reversed. The very idea sent shivers of revulsion skittering up his spine.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he took that last step toward the Counselor's Office and timidly knocked on the doorframe. "Miss Pillsbury?"

Emma Pillsbury's huge brown eyes got even wider in surprise as she looked up from her papers and took in the identity of her visitor. "Kurt!" For a second, she looked as though she might jump up and run screaming from the office. If he had not been blocking the doorway, Kurt suspected she might have actually done it, but instead, she folded her hands neatly on the desktop and manufactured a smile. "Come in. How can I help you?"

Gathering his courage, Kurt entered the office and lowered himself stiffly into the chair before her desk. Holding his posture in perfect alignment, shoulders back, chin raised, knees locked together and toes perfectly pointed, he removed the stylish plaid newsboy cap he had worn to compliment his tri-toned Gucci cashmere sweater, and twisted it in his hands.

"I came to apologize. I can't even tell you how sorry I am for what happened yesterday," he said, feeling his face burn with embarrassment.

Trying to wave away the incident, she tossed her head. "Nothing a little trip to the Emergency Room couldn't fix."

Her attempt at lightness had the opposite effect as horror widened Kurt's blue-green eyes. "I sent you to the hospital?"

His rigid posture slumped, his chin dropping to his chest as he looked everywhere but at the poor, sweet, guidance-counselor that he had apparently maimed. He could recall the vomiting incident and he vaguely remembered clutching onto Miss Pillsbury's arm for support when his head had started spinning with dizziness. Then he thought she might have escorted him to the nurse's office, but he wasn't sure. He had passed out somewhere along the way, remaining in an alcoholic haze until his very unhappy father showed up to collect him, but he did not remember hurting anyone.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, managing a glance at her face before his vision clouded with an involuntary haze of tears.

His show of distress brought the teacher to her feet. Closing the office door, she squatted beside the crying boy and lightly laid a hand on his forearm. "Kurt, it's okay," she told him gently. "It wasn't your fault. I mean, you shouldn't have been drinking alcohol, especially at your age and on school grounds, but I realize that wasn't entirely your idea to start with. I know how hard peer pressure can be, especially when that _peer_ is twice your age. The point is, I know you didn't actually set out to get drunk and . . . well, for what happened afterward to happen."

"I really didn't," he agreed, then sniffled wetly; an act which instantly brought a little packet of resealable Kleenex tissues from Miss Pillsbury's sweater pocket. Kurt accepted one and dabbed away the moisture collecting on his lashes before blowing his nose and tossing the used tissue in the wastebasket she offered.

"Better?" she asked, patting his clenched hands.

He nodded. "Thanks. How did you know? I mean, my dad was really mad. Not just because I'd been drinking, which alone earned me an hour-long lecture, but because I wouldn't tell anyone where I got the booze. Figgins wanted to suspend me, but instead I have to do detention for two weeks, plus I'm totally banned from all television and non homework related computer use for the next month."

Sitting on the edge of her desk and crossing her arms daintily over her buttercup yellow cardigan sweater and rose-colored blouse, Miss Pillsbury countered his unhappy pout with a prompting look. "Don't you think that you deserved some punishment?"

Kurt sighed. "I guess so. It just seems a little excessive for a first offense. And I didn't even _like_ it. I thought wine was supposed to be sort of elegant but it tasted gross, like sour grape-juice."

"Then why did you keep drinking it?"

He squirmed in his chair, but decided that since he had started, he might as well make a full confession. "Because she made it sound so easy, like a few drinks would make all my problems disappear." He looked up, silently pleading with the counselor to understand. "I know that sounds too good to be true, but it sort of worked. For a while. It didn't even take more than a couple of glasses before I felt happy and sort of funny. You know? Like I could do anything I wanted, and nobody would stop me."

Shaking her head, she asked, "But that feeling didn't last long, did it?"

"Not nearly long enough," he admitted. "After awhile I just felt sad and depressed and then really . . ." He stopped, blushing again as he remembered to whom he was speaking.

Miss Pillsbury gave him a sympathetic look. "Sick?"

Kurt nodded. "I'm **really** sorry about that," he said again.

"I forgive you, and I've asked Mr. Schuester to speak with April about her inappropriate behavior toward all of you."

Surprised, he said, "She didn't get in trouble?" In his experience, being lectured by Schue basically meant getting a free pass. Given his own level of required penance this was totally unfair. "Not at all?"

Miss Pillsbury seemed to understand the reason for his outrage. "He wants to give her another chance, and for glee club to have a real chance at winning." Clearly feeling the unfairness of this, she said, "I'm sorry, Kurt."

He sighed, realizing that it was partly his own fault. If he had truly wanted April tossed out on her drunken ass, he'd had every opportunity to rat her out to Principal Figgins, but a part of him was still too enamored of New Directions improved odds of taking the upcoming Sectionals title to be honest. "I guess it's not up to April to make my choices for me," he allowed. "She gave me the opportunity to make a fool of myself, but I jumped at it all on my own."

Miss Pillsbury smiled. "At least if you know that, you'll be more aware the next time temptation comes around. You're a smart boy, Kurt, and more self-aware at sixteen than some people twice your age, including April Rhodes. I think you'll be just fine."

Kurt stood. "Thanks, Miss Pillsbury." Making his way to the office door he opened it, then paused and looked back at her. "My dad didn't ban me from shopping. If you don't think it would be really weird, I'll take you to the mall after school."

Big eyes blinking in surprise, she said, "What for?"

Kurt smiled, his dimples popping into view and making the expression mischievous. "I think I owe you a new pair of shoes."

The counselor's merry laugh burst forth before she could stop it. "You don't need to do that, but thank you for the offer."

Nodding in a friendly way, he let himself out, putting his cap back into place and testing it to make sure he had positioned it at the correct jaunty angle. Maybe he would buy those shoes anyway and send them with a nice thank-you note. Miss Pillsbury had been very understanding and surprisingly forgiving. And her wardrobe could _definitely_ use a boost of style from an expert.

Happy with his plan, Kurt moved off toward his locker with a new spring in his step, humming the entire way.

THE END


End file.
